


Echo

by Lycaste



Category: Watchmen (Comic), Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bodyswap, Crack, Explicit Sexual Content, Humor, M/M, Masturbation, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 13:04:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lycaste/pseuds/Lycaste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt on the kinkmeme that I can't find anymore. Through a bizarre encounter, Nite Owl and Rorschach switch bodies. While struggling to right the situation, Dan learns a few things about his partner.</p><p>Slight AU, where everyone thought Crimebusters was a swell idea. Pre-Roche Rorschach so sure he's quiet and grim, but he still has all the buttons on his over-coat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ between 2009 and 2010. I was desperate to finally finish this, so apologies if the ending feels a little phoned-in.

**Title:** Echo (1/4)  
 **Author:** lilac28  
 **Pairing:** Rorschach/Nite Owl  
 **Rating:** R  
 **Disclaimer:** I wish I could write something as amazing as Watchmen. Sadly I did not.  
 **Notes** : Slight AU, where everyone thought Crimebusters was a swell idea. Pre-Roche Rorschach so sure he's quiet and grim, but he still has all the buttons on his over-coat.  
 **Summary:** Written for a prompt on the kinkmeme that I can't find anymore. Through a bizarre encounter, Nite Owl and Rorschach switch bodies. While struggling to right the situation, Dan learns a few things about his partner.

_Nite Owl's Journal, October 12th, 1968_

_Something very strange happened today......_

 

 

"He's obviously wealthy. Possibly homosexual."

"So what? You know that I built all those gadgets, including the ship we're flying in, with my own money, right? Just because someone has money doesn't mean they don't care about society. And so what if he's homosexual? How can you even tell?"

"Effeminate behavior. Also he wears gold lamé pants."

Dan Dreiberg felt frustration crumble into mild amusement as he discussed Ozymandias' choice of dress with his partner. Although tempting, he didn't ask Rorschach if wearing purple carried the same homosexual connotations as wearing gold. Instead he simply said, "What the hell is lamé?"

"A type of fabric with ribbons of metallic yarns. It's often subject to seam slippage, making it not ideal for frequently used garments. I suspect he's hoping they'll unravel so he can flash his indecency on the unsuspecting male populace."

"He's just being theatrical, Rorschach. You can understand that." _That's an awful lot of knowledge about fabric._ Dan could feel his stomach performing the heated flip that occurred whenever he accidentally gleaned some personal information about Rorschach. Was he ever a tailor? A dancer? Perhaps he had a little sister? Every scenario seemed equally ridiculous, yet he filed away each little bit of knowledge and conjecture, running them through his mind during early morning ruminations about his partner.

Ruminations that had become far more frequent, far more feverish. It was terrifying to admit to himself an attraction to Rorschach. At first he had brushed it off as loneliness, then as mere convenience. Dan didn't really know anyone who wasn't a mask anymore; he didn't have many friends in what was left of his daytime life. It was only natural that he'd gravitate towards the one person he saw on a regular basis. The one person he could trust, who was endlessly fascinating. Endlessly infuriating as well, but that didn't stop him from pumping his cock on mornings after he woke up from dreaming in black and white.

An infatuation then. Heartbreaking irony, considering that one of the best parts about becoming Nite Owl had been the escape from former helpless emotions. Powerlessness. Impotence. The leftover bad taste of his terribly awkward teenage years. When he was in the costume he was someone important doing something that mattered. A protector of the innocent and a man achieving his full potential. Although lately, with the advent of his inability to stop staring every time Rorschach revealed the smallest piece of skin, he felt like a clumsy teenager all over again.

The nervousness and second-guessing had been almost enough to drive him mad. Just when he thought he might have to start sharing a room with poor Byron Lewis, Dan started noticing things. Little things. Rorschach standing a fraction too close to him at meetings. _Meaningless, he just doesn't feel comfortable around the others._ Rorschach staying to eat his food after patrols, occasionally offering him a laconic compliment. _He's just lonely and can't admit it._ Rorschach freezing on the spot and trying not to watch him as he changed out of his costume. _It didn't happen like that, you imagined it._

The handshake, however, he did _not_ imagine. It was two weeks ago; the last time he'd seen his partner before now. A nightly handshake had become standard operating procedure between the two of them, only this time Rorschach had folded his small, gloved hand inside Dan's and hadn't let go. In an instant the vast gulf of emotional distance normally between them seemed to collapse, imploding from almost fervent pressure through leather clad fingers.

And then silence. Awkward, mouth-drying silence. Stretching on and on to the point where it was less of a handshake, more of a handhold. It was over when Rorschach bowed his head, stammered something between a grunt and actual language, then turned and walked away.

But he'd stammered. In the few years they'd been working together, Rorschach had never stumbled over his words. That piercing moment could not have been all in his mind.

"...all these clowns and jokers with their drug addictions. That's why you can't let your guard down."

"Uh, yeah, I don't know about that." Then there were the creepy rants about moral degradation, which eventually lead to creepy rants about sex, which made Dan think it _was_ all in his mind. Best to change the topic of discourse before one of them ended up bleeding. "We're almost there. Let's go over the plan again."

"Emergency entrance to Moloch's underground vice den is in the back of the alchemy shop on Barnett Street. He should be in a meeting with no more than five guards. We'll come in through the back and take them down. Follow me, and try not to get separated." Rorschach paused, a hesitation that Dan believed was for dramatic effect. "Let's see how he likes the magic of the American justice system."

"Where did you get this information?" _And where were you for two weeks?_

"It doesn't matter, source was credible."

Dan knew better than to push. No doubt pain had been involved, and all he wanted to think about now was taking down Moloch and working in that heady tandem of violence with Rorschach. "I still don't understand why you didn't want Ozymandias to come along. We could use the backup on this one."

Rorschach made one of his odd noises of distaste. "Hhn. Too trusting, Daniel."

"Listen man, I just think you can't really judge someone until you've walked in their shoes."

Dan didn’t give him time to respond as he deftly maneuvered to drop off Rorschach, already feeling flutters of pre-bust adrenaline. Moloch was going down tonight. The ridiculous mystic was becoming a dinosaur in the crime world, his act stale after so many years. The future would be more arms race, less parlor tricks. Justice would be served, and the Rorschach-Nite Owl team would be the ones dispensing it. Knights in shining costume, desire at last effective.

Not to mention how impressed Hollis was going to be. The thought thrilled him more than it should have.

Archie was left hovering above the city while Dan glided down with the special attachment to his owl suit. He landed next to his partner, falling in step as though the past few tense weeks never happened.

The magic shop was nearly empty, only a few shocked patrons turned to gape at the men in costume as they strode to the back through tendrils of incense curtains. Rorschach led the way, intent on a singular destination. An unassuming door neatly tucked between rows of dusty books and peacock feathers.

The sales girl blundered after them. "W-What are you doing? You guys can't go in there!"

"Vigilantes, ma'am." The answer was as effective a deterrent as ever.

Countless evenings of practice at the Dreiberg residence had honed Rorschach's door kicking skills to a fine art. The wood splintered under a well-placed heel. They stepped through the ruins and into a maze of corridors. Rorschach whipped his head around, senses on high alert, yet he never slowed. Left, another left, then a right. He moved as though he knew exactly where he was going, like he'd been there before. No doubt the result of countless hours studying the plans he'd received from Moloch's informant.

After a dizzying amount of turns they were in front of another door.

Rorschach nodded a single assent. "Ready?"

Nite Owl assumed a fighting stance. "Ready."

They burst through the door, and were greeted by the sight of Moloch at a polished, old desk surrounded by guards. He didn't even raise an eyebrow at their entrance.

"Ah, Rorschach! Nite Owl! I wasn't expecting you, but your timing is perfect as always. At ease, gentlemen." Moloch gestured to the guards, who had assembled in front of him at the desk. There were only three. This was going to be easier than originally expected.

"Give it up, Moloch. You're under arrest." Dan delivered the words in his best "you're-fucked-now-criminal" voice.

"Oh no, no, my friends. _You're_ the ones who'll be giving up. I have you outnumbered and outsmarted."

"You're coming with us." Rorschach bristled, not known for his patience with criminal babbling. "We know everything; locations of drug deals, newest prostitution ring, the heist you planned at the shipyards. One of your men told me your whole operation. Come quietly," he tilted his head and began cracking his knuckles "or not."

Moloch shrank behind his guards, a smug smile never leaving his face. "My whole operation? Rorschach, I didn't become a serial villain yesterday. Do you seriously think I'd explain all my dealings to one man if there existed the slightest chance of him affecting their outcome? The drug deal locations are false, the prostitution ring just a cover. And as for the shipyard heist, I did it thirty-five minutes ago. It's where I picked up this."

He produced a small crystal from his coat pocket, which bathed the dank underground room in a soft, pulsating light.

And suddenly everything seemed very wrong. A cold shiver passed through Dan, hairs on the back of his neck stood in warning attention. He grabbed Rorschach's wrist. "Wait a second..."

The interplay of light and dark across Moloch's face cast a fearful symmetry, a wolf in magician's clothing. "You know, I was hoping my false information would attract Manhattan but you two will do for a fun trick. I always thought there was something a little off about you both. Big Figure liked to run his mouth about how much you wanted each other's bodies. Let's see if he was right, shall we?"

The room was definitely spinning now. Dan's hold on Rorschach had turned from a cautious warning into a necessary clutching.

"Nite Owl and Rorschach," Moloch boomed with typical costumed villain melodrama. "I think it's time you partners got to know each other a little better. A capite ad calcem...."

Before either hero could respond, the world went black.

 

 

The first thing Dan noticed upon awakening was the terrible smell. Garbage and old cologne and....Rorschach?

He bolted upright, disoriented and seized with panic. _What happened? Where am I? What the hell is wrong with my eyes?_

There were distinct black and white blobs floating in the forefront of his vision. Heart slamming, he glanced around in alarm. He was on the floor in a room washed in soft, muted colors. A stove, chairs, sugar cubes on the table. _My kitchen._ Something was choking him. He couldn't breathe. _Please don't let this be the result of an Ozymandias party gone wrong._

Dan brought his hands to his throat and met with scratchy fabric and the bottom of a mask. He looked down, shocked the find that he was not in his owl suit but a trench coat and pants. Purple pants, if his clouded vision was to be trusted. Rorschach's clothes. When had he and Rorschach switched clothes? How had he gotten back home?

He stood on shaky legs, mind whirling as he tried to reassemble memories with his usual finesse. Moloch? Yes! They had gone to raid Moloch's. The criminal had uttered something in Latin, then smoke, then....he and Rorschach had switched clothes? Had he been hit on the head? Why did everything in his kitchen seem taller?

A fresh wave of panic hit him when all attempted rationalizations coalesced into one seemingly banal thought. _Rorschach's clothes wouldn't fit you._

"Rorschach?" Although Dan purposely made the sound, the voice that spoke was not his own. More gravelly, lacking the familiar quality of Dan Dreiberg.

The top cabinet. The top cabinet where he kept the spare sugar seemed so far away. His voice was wrong. _Rorschach's clothes wouldn't fit you._

What had Moloch said before he'd passed out? He couldn't remember. Frantic delineations of black and white before his eyes only added to the vertigo. _Oh God, what the fuck is happening?_

Dan dashed from the room, knocking over a chair in his haste. Swimming through a haze of confusion and terror, he stumbled to his bedroom. The one with a full-length mirror. He had to confirm whether what he was wearing really did belong to his shorter partner.

Time slowed as he reached the mirror, the abnormality of the situation bending both physics and sanity. _It can't be._ Rorschach's masked visage and noir detective garb stared back at him. _Impossible._

He brushed the grimy fedora from his head. The soft thump it made on the floor didn't even register.

He plucked at the purple leather gloves with jittering hands, heart palpitations deafening with each inch of skin that was revealed.

_Thump._ Too small. _Thump._ Too bony. _Thump._ Freckles? Why was he wearing Rorschach's clothes in his house with small freckled hands?

Dan knew the rules of reality had changed in the past decade with the advent of Dr. Manhattan, but this had to be a dream. The alternative made no sense. If these were Rorschach's clothes, could it be fucking possible that these were Rorschach's hands as well? That he somehow inhabited Rorschach's body? That if he took off the stifling mask he'd see Rorschach's real face?

A chill colder than an Antarctic storm gripped him. _Take off the mask. See Rorschach's real face._

Dan removed the scarf with the slow, methodical intent of a surgeon. The blots in front of his face were moving faster now.

He began with a tentative pull at the bottom of the mask, hands trembling, breath caught in anticipation. A hard, angular jaw and thin lips. Familiar. He'd seen them before. Rorschach's face.

But that was all he'd ever seen.

Dan had always understood about the mask. The need for it, the power of a persona. He'd never pushed, even when he had revealed his own face to his partner. Never dreamed of breaking that trust by asking for more. Yet now, with the truth mere inches away, he couldn't have resisted if his life depended on it. He wanted to see, _needed_ to see. Any shred of reserve melted in quaking hands.

Up past the nose, and life's cadence slowed down to a dreamy, unreal crawl. Slender fingers stroked the bare cheek, and were soon covered by the beads of sweat slipping down under the mask.

He tensed, still shivering, when he pulled harder and flat brown eyes were exposed. So close.

Finally, with all the charged flourish of an illusionist revealing the great secret, he twisted his wrist just so and gave Rorschach's face a final tug. And there, looking back at him from the mirror was the object of his gentle obsession. The terror of the underworld. Minus the dark hair, facial scars, and intriguingly odd good looks Dan had always imagined.

Rorschach was a homely little redhead with ears that stuck out too far.

Another mask then.

Overwhelmed and in shock, Dan collapsed on his bed laughing. He laughed until his eyes became heavy and he drifted off, already exhausted from inhabiting a body that never slept.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for a prompt on the kinkmeme that I can't find anymore. Through a bizarre encounter, Nite Owl and Rorschach switch bodies. While struggling to right the situation, Dan learns a few things about his partner.

**Title:** Echo (2/4)  
 **Author:** lilac28  
 **Pairing:** Rorschach/Nite Owl  
 **Rating:** R  
 **Disclaimer:** I wish I could write something as amazing as Watchmen. Sadly I did not.  
 **Notes** : Slight AU, where everyone thought Crimebusters was a swell idea. Pre-Roche Rorschach so sure he's quiet and grim, but he still has all the buttons on his over-coat.  
 **Summary:** Written for a prompt on the kinkmeme that I can't find anymore. Through a bizarre encounter, Nite Owl and Rorschach switch bodies. While struggling to right the situation, Dan learns a few things about his partner.

 

_Twilight Lady stood impatient for his arrival, hands on her hips like a drill sergeant. Running towards her was like moving underwater, and Dan struggled to close the distance between them. His lungs felt like they were about to shatter from physical exertion and all-consuming panic. He didn't know why he was running so hard._

_He just knew that he had to get to her._

_He tried to speak upon reaching her, but the words failed to come out. It was important, so important, that they be close. He enfolded her in his arms, unable to articulate the need to release something inside him. Something that was burning him alive._

_Then they were naked, and she was reaching up to twine her fingers through his hair. Her touched remained gentle, even as Dan felt a painless rip through his scalp and down his face. Slim hands pulled at his body, removing human skin as though he were a shedding snake. The Daniel Dreiberg layer sloughed off, leaving only Nite Owl beneath. Fully costumed, confident Nite Owl._

_Twilight Lady herself was still naked. Nite Owl smoothed her fiery hair, all the while knowing it was important to restore balance. To free her as he himself had just been freed. His hands caught a seam on the top of her head, and he tore her apart in one graceful motion. Yet looking back at him wasn't the pointy mask and goggles of the Twilight Lady. It wasn't a woman at all. Looking back at him was a tiny figure in a brown trench coat and hat; face a lazy fluctuating butterfly of black on white._

_Rorschach._

_They were so close. And just when Nite Owl leaned down further, the world exploded._

 

Dan Dreiberg awoke mid-scream and drenched in sweat, taking a few minutes of frantic gasping to get his bearings. _Holy shit, what a crazy dream._ He was in his room, on his bed, clad in purple and brown. _What the..._

Glancing over at the full-length mirror, he noted dull brown eyes under a shock of red hair. Not all of it a dream.

The events of the previous night came tumbling back. Rorschach. Moloch. The surprise of a lifetime when he took off the mask. He must have fallen asleep from stunned exhaustion. Fallen asleep for quite a while according to the clock next to his bed, which displayed 6:10 PM. 

It was the next night, and Rorschach was still missing. In spirit anyway.

Dan buried his head in his hands. What the hell was he going to do now? Freaking out was awfully tempting. _Okay, okay. Think. Get ahold of yourself and come up with a cohesive plan. You're in the body of a brilliant detective. What would Rorschach do?_

Rorschach would find Moloch and break every digit on his shifty hands. Maybe that's where he should start. Find Moloch. Well, where he _should_ start would be to find Rorschach. Unfortunately, even after being partners for a few years now, Dan didn't know Rorschach's name, address, or any other personal information. 

Which brought him to another thought. He had to assume Rorschach was alive. Had to assume he was alive, and inhabiting Dan's own body. If Moloch had truly switched them, then his partner was running around the city somewhere dressed like a giant owl. _Shit, Hollis never told me about the new levels of weirdness that this job would reach._

Hollis. Maybe he could call Hollis and get some help? Although what he really needed was someone with more resources. Someone like Ozymandias.

Or someone like Dr. Manhattan. If anyone could unravel this supernatural mystery, it was the man who could rearrange matter with his mind. Manhattan could help, and if it really was the next day then there was a Crimebusters meeting tonight.

Dan leapt from the bed with renewed purpose, spirits buoyed by some semblance of a plan. He needed to eat, that much was evident by how weak and shaky he felt. He also needed to wash his clothes and take a shower if he was to function without passing out.

The notion brought his thoughts to a screaming halt. Shower? Laundry? That would require nudity, and nudity would catapult him to new levels of uncomfortable beyond those of the awkward handshake. The alternative, however, was to work in a sub-optimal state and risk being stuck forever as a five foot six angry ginger who probably got laid less than Dan did. 

A shower it was.

Rifling through his dresser, he pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt to wear while his clothes were in the wash. Rorschach's mask also found its way into his hands. Freaky situation or not, there was no way he was letting his partner's most prized possession out of his sight. 

 

Once in front of his washing machine, Dan examined the grimy coat and pants pockets to remove any of Rorschach's lingering possessions. There was a small flashlight, a handful of sugar cubes, and a map of the subway system marked with writing more cryptic than any engineering schematic he had ever seen. 

There was also a small, leather-bound journal. The one Rorschach scribbled in every night. 

If anything was to give more insight into his furtive partner's personality, it was the journal before it was the face behind the mask. At the very least, it could contain a name or an address. _Oh, what do you expect to really find? "Dear Diary, tonight Nite Owl looked sexy in his spandex. If found please return to....."_

He opened the pages, ignoring the whisper in his head that it was wrong. Being Rorschach, it seemed, was more fraught with temptation than one may have thought.

_”Now the whole world stands on the brink, staring down into bloody hell, all those liberals and intellectuals and smooth-talkers...and all of a sudden, nobody can think of anything to say._

_Except Nite Owl. Nite Owl untainted by the city's putrid corruption._

_And when the accumulated filth of all their sex and murder will foam up about their waists and all the whores and politicians will look up and shout "save us!"_

_...and I'll look down, and whisper "no."_

_On that miserable day, I suspect Nite Owl will make the right decision.”_

Dan slammed the journal shut, resolute in the knowledge that this was too serious a boundary to cross. There was nothing to learn in it that would immediately help his situation. There was only betrayal, and a whole lot of semi-nonsensical ramblings. He had to keep moving if he was going to get out the house in time to find Dr. Manhattan. After all, he still had to get Archie ready and-

_Fuck._

Archie was still hovering high in the sky above the magic shop, and the remote to bring him down was on Nite Owl's belt. He could construct another one, but there was little time and no way to test it. With the Crimebusters headquarters many blocks away, his choices would be either to walk or use public transportation.

Whatever he chose, he'd have to hurry. The meeting was in just under three hours. Dan removed his white tank top and white underwear, making it a point to put on the other clothes and look at his body as little as possible. He threw the stained garments in the wash. _Tighty-whities, Rorschach, why am I not surprised?_

While the washing machine ran, he rummaged through his cupboards for some sort of sustenance. _Pasta, cereal.....beans?_

Moving of its own accord, his hand closed around the can. _Heat it up? Well, there's not really time, is there? They'll be fine like this._

Before he knew it, thirty minutes had passed and with them four cans of unheated beans. The wash surely done by now, he moved to go back downstairs and put everything in the dryer. 

The only thing left would be a shower.

 

Dan stopped at the bathroom door; one hand clutching the mask while the other lingered on the doorknob. Was he really going to do this? He had already taken off the mask, effectively rendering his partner naked. He'd even snuck a peak at Rorschach's mysterious journal. Yet washing his body seemed so intimate, perverse even. Was bathing more acceptable in light of the fact that he hadn't read the entire journal? Where did one line of propriety end, and the other begin? It figured that the limits were nebulous with Rorschach, even when he wasn't truly there.

The truth was, however, that Dan couldn't function smelling like an old foot. He turned the knob. _I'm going in._

His normally bright, cheery bathroom had taken on an ominous air, as though the very walls were condemning him for the sin he was about to commit. Catching hold of his reflection in the mirror, once again Dan paused to examine Rorschach's face. It just seemed so out of place with what he knew of his partner's personality. Chipped teeth, deep-set brown eyes, freckles. No surprise, really, that he was ugly, although there was something almost appealing to Dan in the serious glower. Unmasking him had been a shock, but it hadn't been enough to erase the mystery. 

Apparently the animus of Rorschach persisted even without the mask. Without its owner. Never before had Dan wanted to know Rorschach's real name this badly. 

He turned his back to the mirror, undressing with the utmost haste. _Let's make this quick._ After reaching in to turn on the water, he placed the mask on the closed toilet seat, stepped into the shower, and yanked the curtain around the tub. Delicious warm water was soon sluicing down his foreign body, and Dan found himself wondering when was the last time it had enjoyed the luxury of a warm shower.

He began by lathering shampoo into his hair, part of him amused by how mortified Rorschach would be at the thought of "lathering" anything. Nights of mask-wearing city grime ran down his body, carried by shampoo and water. _Red hair. I can't believe he has red hair. Why is that so titillating? How can one person be such a pillar of contradictions?_

There was plenty of time to ruminate on the pervasive dualities of Rorschach until the water ran clear. Given how long that was, he knew that in addition to the shampoo he should be a little more _thorough_ in his cleaning. Dan reached for the soap, seized with equal parts guilt and stomach-churning excitement. He still had yet to gather the courage to really look down.

Starting at the top, he ran the soap along his chest and arms. There wasn't much there, but he sure was a compact little guy. No wonder he could take down three men twice his size. Rorschach was certainly....taut. His heart started beating wildly as he slid the soap lower over a firm, tensed stomach.

Then he looked down, at which point three things struck him.

The carpet did indeed match the drapes. _That's almost...cute._

Those freckles really were almost everywhere.

Rorschach was uncircumcised.

He could have suspected as much, of course, given Rorschach's rather vehement reaction to a rather tame joke Dan had made about his Bris. ( _Barbaric Jewish practice. You think a child can get closer to God through mutilation?_ ) Seeing it was another matter, more intriguing than anything else. He started examining it without another thought, as though he were gently stretching the wings of a timid falcon.

_Uh, ok. Gotta wash everything. I'll just, um, pull this back here and oh-_

For the first time that he could remember in life, Dan pulled his foreskin back, and immediately the circumstances went from clinical and fascinating to bare and arousing. It was sensitive, far more sensitive than he was used to. He was tingling in the open air, water stroking places normally covered.

Before he could do anything, Dan Dreiberg was getting hard in his partner's body. _Oh Jesus, this is twisted._ Any second now Rorschach was going to rip the door off its hinges and beat him in a Nite Owl costume. He held his breath for a second, and when the door remained intact he dared to wrap a hand around his burgeoning erection.

This was not jerking off. This was just washing, or touching, or...holding. The kind of exploratory touch that had no explicit goal of masturbation. Comfort without perversion. Like the interlacing of gloved hands after a hard night's patrol. Like catching something rare and letting it just rest in your palm, no ulterior motive. Like simultaneously ignoring and thrilling to your greatest secret. What would his partner say if he were to see this? _Filthy. Disgusting._

"Oh God, what the hell am I doing?" He spoke the words in a foreign voice. Rorschach's voice. And now he was holding onto Rorschach's fully erect cock.

Rorschach's voice. Saying anything he wanted.

"Daniel." _He'll never know._

He palmed the head of his dick, spreading clear fluid and rocking into new sensation.

"Daniel, I want you." He'd longed for this. Dan would have been ashamed, had he not been so aroused. "Couldn't tell you. Please....Nite Owl, please touch me."

Now he had to admit that he was jerking off. He lolled his head against the tiled wall as he kept pumping in that luscious state of solo frenzy. _God,_ it was good. Spiraling upwards with every tight-fisted stroke, he grunted and muttered everything he had wanted to hear over the past six months. Everything he had only dared to admit to in dreams. Rorschach's voice, gravel on glass and nights of noble brutality. 

His free hand roamed over pale, hard skin while the other took on an autopilot relentless rhythm, lacking the self-control to properly tease, afraid the fantasy would evaporate under a guilty heat at any second. Trembling fingers finally lifted to his dour face and ghosted over every sharp corner. It really did exist under that mask. 

That fucking mask, another costume piece that drove him crazy. The mask that his inscrutable partner wore. Every night. Even when it was raining. The mask that was surely waterproof. 

Dan ripped the shower curtain aside and snatched at the mask still sitting on the toilet seat. _Hey, I should wash it anyway, right?_

Fumbling with one hand he jammed it over his head and rolled it down to just above his nose, knees almost buckling as a new wave of desire swept through him. Rorschach's shifting face had always entranced him, always made him feel more powerful by association. He guessed the costumes had something to do with it. It felt strange to come out and admit that to somebody, even if it was just himself.

To come out of the closet.

He was hovering on the edge of a cresting wave of pleasure, the world reduced to a swimming sea of black and white. With the reckless resolve of one desperately close to coming, Dan pulled the rest of the mask down over his face. 

"Oh yes, Daniel. Yes, just like that! Does it feel good?"

_Oh, yes. Rorschach, yes. I feel so confident. It's like I'm on fire. And all the crazed magicians, all the weird happenings in the world, they're just cases--just problems to solve._

And he was swept away, legs giving out as he slid down the shower wall, furious hand never stopping. Convulsing with the deep-bliss waves of a body that hadn't experienced release in God knows how long. Hot come splashed the mask, leaving an asymmetrical pattern that lasted only a moment before the shower washed it away. Every tug, every whisper, every sordid gasp of dirty, constricting latex, it was all so fucking good.

And it ended, like so many of life's powerful-yet-cheap sexual encounters, with a twinge of guilt and no small amount of unease. Spent until he was just a skinny little puzzle trembling on the floor of his bathtub. 

When his breathing was finally under control and his body stopped shaking, Dan turned off the water and grabbed a towel. He had to hurry if he was going to make it to the Crimebusters meeting.


	3. Echo (3/4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for a prompt on the kinkmeme that I can't find anymore. Through a bizarre encounter, Nite Owl and Rorschach switch bodies. While struggling to right the situation, Dan learns a few things about his partner.

**Title:** Echo (3/4)  
 **Author:** lilac28  
 **Pairing:** Rorschach/Nite Owl  
 **Rating:** R  
 **Disclaimer:** I wish I could write something as amazing as Watchmen. Sadly I did not.  
 **Notes** : Slight AU, where everyone thought Crimebusters was a swell idea. Pre-Roche Rorschach so sure he's quiet and grim, but he still has all the buttons on his over-coat.  
 **Summary:** Written for a prompt on the kinkmeme that I can't find anymore. Through a bizarre encounter, Nite Owl and Rorschach switch bodies. While struggling to right the situation, Dan learns a few things about his partner.

 

Dan trudged down the tunnel that lead from his basement to the streets, gait decidedly un-Rorschach-like although he inhabited his partner's body. After the third time of nearly tripping over his own feet, he changed his stride to a length that his smaller legs could handle. Gone was the smooth flow of Rorschach's movements, the cat-like grace of one in touch with his own physical prowess. In its place was the awkward fumbling of someone completely out of his element. _I feel like a giant trapped in a midget's body._

Added to that was the fact that he couldn't fucking see straight.

The mask was on, creating a thin jelly ooze of black and white across his vision. The world was reduced to something flat and distant, two-dimensional shapes and colors muting out all of life's context clues. _I can't believe he walks down this dark tunnel every night and doesn't break his neck. Does he actually find this view comforting?_

It was out of respect for his partner's identity that he hadn't taken a bus or a cab. Just his luck that someone would notice and put two and two together. He'd probably end up sitting next to Jimmy the Gimmick on a gangster date. Someone would recognize the trench coat and unique purple pinstripe suit, even in its current rarely laundered state.

Or someone from his real life would spot Rorschach's unmistakable face. Then he'd have to come up with a clever excuse for why he didn't recognize them, and clever excuse for the outfit.

Changing clothes was another option that was quickly discarded. One could still identify daytime Rorschach, whoever _that_ redheaded guy was. What if he ran into a fellow Crimebuster? Where would he change before the meeting? What if some filthy degenerate on his way to poison the city's water supply caught him barefaced in the tunnels? _Whoa, where the hell did that thought come from?_

So travel in full Rorschach regalia it was. He'd even pulled the mask down over his eyes as he left his basement, partially to protect his partner and partially to get used to wearing it before he hit the streets.

Dan knew the tunnel would bring him out in a warehouse two blocks North. Yet despite the two blocks of practice, he was still profoundly uncomfortable at the thought of being Rorschach.

Reaching his destination, he made his way up the ladder, into the secret entrance of the warehouse, and to the door that lead to the streets. There was precious little time before the Crimebusters meeting; the laundry and bathing adventure had taken longer that he thought it would. He had to get there quickly. As Rorschach.

Dan squared his shoulders, bowed his head, and jammed his hands in his pockets. Clearing his throat, he affected his best imitation of his partner's growl.

"Hurm. Hrm. Too soft, Nite Owl. The dusk reeks of fornication and bad consciences. Ennk." _Here goes nothing._

The first few blocks were deserted, allowing him to travel successfully. Minus one embarrassing stumble over a curb, which no one was around to witness.

Then he came to 42nd Street.

It was a cesspool, as usual. Gaudy pink and yellow flashed from every storefront and breast-baring movie house. Well-dressed men propositioned hookers in full view, casting furtive glances while clenching fistfuls of sweaty dollar bills. More lost souls trying to escape their daytime lives, trying to hide their identities. Everyone regarded him with a wary eye, as if afraid he was going to expose any seedy dealing with a flick of the wrist. As if his mere presence could reveal illicit behavior. _They must be used to seeing him walk around here. Small fry, though. Even Rorschach can't arrest everyone._

"Hey, sweetie, need a date?" A scantily dressed woman smiling at him interrupted Dan’s reverie.

Her bright red hair was incentive enough to make him walk faster.

"C'mon, honey, loosen up and we can have some fun." Another woman approached him. _Do they come on to him all the time like this?_

Before he reached the turn off 42nd Street to cut into the alleys, Dan was propositioned at least 7 times. It was almost amusing, thinking of how riled Rorschach must get when they did this to him every night. He was offered Swedish love and French love. _But not American love. Huh, that's weird._

Over twenty minutes could be shaved off his trip by taking a shortcut through the alleys, one he learned from patrols with Rorschach. Navigating the city always seemed to make so much more sense to Dan when done in the air rather than on foot. Not so for Rorschach, who clearly had missed his calling as a troubled cartographer. Dan had thought he was familiar with the city, yet partnering with Rorschach brought a whole new level of sophistication. Something he was grateful for now that his sight felt so hampered.

He was halfway there when voiced echoed from behind him.

"Hey, it's one of those faggot masks!"

"Ha ha! Yeah, man. I've seen 'im in the paper with his boyfriend Owl Guy."

"He's gotta boyfriend? Musta changed his deodorant!"

Three poorly dressed young punks, couldn't have been older than twenty. Not too bright either. No one in this end of town taunted Rorschach, not unless they were very powerful, or very stupid. _And why the hell does everyone think we're gay, anyway?_

They were moving to circle him. One stepped closer, mouth twisted in a broken grin. Dan was on his guard, but not frightened. He'd taken this many men alone before. Perhaps it wouldn't come to that, he could possibly diffuse the situation without too much violence, and without his true concern, wasted time.

"Young man, don't do something you'll regret." _Like making me kick your ass from here to Jersey._

The punk brandished a knife, holding it with the utmost pride and the poorest form. Talking, obviously, was not going to work. So using all of Rorschach's tight, wiry electricity he clenched his hand and swung his fist in the perfect arc.

And missed by at least three inches.

The next thing he knew, he was lying in a pile of trash, head spinning from the punk's ringing punch, ears adjusting to the sound of their uproarious laughter.

"He ain't so tough! "

Dan struggled to get up, arms and legs scrabbling for purchase. The mask was stifling. He couldn't breathe. Then they were on him, pushing him down like a sad brown and purple beetle helpless on its back. He couldn't move in the trench coat, the scarf was constricting around his throat.

_Oh shit. Fuck. Arms too short. Can't fight like you're used to. Don't let them pin you down. Shit!_

The leader loomed over him, knife glinting in the streetlight. "Let's see what's under that mask."

_Get up! You have to fight like Rorschach! What would Rorschach do?_

Rorschach would throw himself at them with all the fury of a hurricane. He would punch and kick and crush bones with barely a breath between him and the body of his enemy. Tactically, Rorschach was brilliant. He was so unpredictable. Knowing how to use his energy and smaller stature to his great advantage was just another facet of his brilliance. Nite Owl never fully appreciated that. Not until now.

"Rraaaarrl!" With a primal growl, Dan launched himself just as Rorschach would have. Fast and low to the ground, with little regard for his own personal safety. He snatched the knife with one hand while the other buried itself in the man's stomach with a solid punch. The punk doubled over wheezing, unable to react before Dan's foot connected with his skull.

With one mugger out cold, Dan turned to the other two, who stood gaping in amateurish shock. "Anyone else want to try and undress me?"

They ran in the other direction, leaving their unconscious friend at his mercy.

Dan adjusted his clothes. Successful as the assault was, he still didn't get how Rorschach fought in a suit, scarf, and heavy coat. At least spandex moved with the body. How his partner could be so lethal in such tight pants, Dan would never understand. _Still, it's a fighting style that works. I can see how it would be especially effective for a guy who never jerks off._

No time to lose, he kept walking in the direction of Crimebusters headquarters.

 

 

After what seemed like forever he reached the location of the meeting. Sliding through the front door, he quickly made his way through the hall lined with old Minutemen photographs, up the stairs, and around the corner to main room.

Dan rushed into the meeting space. If Rorschach was okay, there was an excellent chance that he would show up here in an effort to find him. At the very least maybe he could get some help from Jon or one of the others.

In typical Rorschach fashion, he burst into the room with contracted fists and fedora artfully arranged. He met with four pairs of surprised eyes belonging to Nelson, Laurie, the Comedian, and Ozymandias. No Rorschach. No Jon. _Fuck._

"Has-has anyone seen Rorschach?"

The Comedian's lips broke into a sinister smile behind his cigar, eyes bright with amusement. "I'm lookin' at him right now, but what I'm not seein' is his better half. Nice of you to show up, Rorschach, now that the meeting's over."

"Uh....I mean..." How was he going to explain this? _Oh, I meant Nite Owl. Or his body at least. I'm really Nite Owl in Rorschach's body and Moloch switched us and I'm looking for them both and..."_

The Comedian didn't even wait for a response before he rose to leave. "Been a laugh riot, gang. Oh, and Rorschach...if you can't even remember your own name then you an' your partner are spendin' way too much time together."

He gave Dan a faux-friendly pat on the shoulder that sent his tiny frame stumbling forward, nearly colliding with Laurie.

"Laurie, wait, I need to talk to you."

Laurie, who always had a sweet smile for Dan, recoiled in something akin to horror, the reality of Rorschach's hand on her arm and the use of her first name obviously unpleasant.

"Look, Rorschach, I've really gotta go. Jon's not here so I caught a ride with Nelson-"

"Jon! Where's Jon?"

"On some mission somewhere."

"When's he coming back?"

"I'm not sure. Tonight maybe."

"I need to talk to him. It's urgent. It's about, uh, Nite Owl."

Laurie yanked her arm back and began herding Nelson out the door. "Yeah, Rorschach, I'll tell him you're looking for him."

"Please, Laurie, it's urgent!"

"I heard you the first time. I'll tell him."

Dan didn't chase after her, fixing his gaze instead on Ozymandias, the only crime fighter who had not yet beaten a hasty retreat. He was regarding Dan with an air of disengaged politeness, the countenance of one calmly plotting his escape from an unwanted social situation.

"Are you all right, Rorschach? You seem a little...befuddled."

 _Aw hell, I might as well tell someone here._ "Ozymandias, this is gonna sound crazy but I have something to tell you and I need your help. It's about me and Nite Owl."

Ozymandias raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. "Go on."

"We were on patrol the other night and something, uh, weird happened. I think, it was Moloch, he-he cast some sort of spell on us. I don't know how it happened but I'm not really Rorschach. I know it _sounds_ unbelievable but I'm really-"

Ozymandias held up his hand. "Oh, I see what's happening here. Don't be so hard on yourself, this is actually quite normal."

"It _is?!?_ You've seen this sort of thing before?"

"Oh yes, many times. You see, Rorschach, these types of situations can be very confusing if your mind is not open to certain possibilities. Nite Owl is a good man. He's strong and doesn't shy away from violence when necessary, but he has a side to him that you just don't understand. He's gallant, wants to be a knight in shining armor. If he weren't so caught up in his school boy heroics he'd actually be much more effective."

 _Asshole._ "What I'm trying to tell you that I _am_ Nit-"

"And what I'm trying to tell _you_ is that he's more sensitive than you realize. If you really want him, you're going to have to romance him a little."

"What?" The voice of Rorschach squeaked for possibly the first time ever. "That's not it!"

Before Dan could launch into another awkward explanation of the last night's events, the Comedian came waltzing back into the room. He strode between Dan and Ozymandias with a "'scuse me, ladies", retrieved a pack of forgotten cigars, and left.

Ozymandias used the interruption to make a graceful exit, cape trailing behind him as he ducked out the door.

_Hrm. Rich man, cheap escape._

Dan shuddered; perturbed by the realization that he was now thinking like Rorschach as well. He pulled his partner's pinstriped armor and trench coat tighter, feeling cold even though he was inside. No Rorschach or Jon. The only thing left to do was find Moloch. _Goddammit._ He trudged down the stairs, feeling more than a little defeated.

And there, coming through the front door, was a fully dressed Nite Owl.

His body.

"R-rorschach? Is that you?"

"Daniel," the relief in his voice was evident. "I knew I'd find you here wasting time with bureaucracy."

 _Yeah, definitely Rorschach._ "It's good to see you too, buddy. Any idea what the hell happened?"

"No. I woke up in my apartment looking like this. Immediately went out, started asking questions in the underworld about Moloch. I made my way to the Owl's Nest to see if you were there. When you weren't, I came here. You?"

It was bizarre, looking up at his own face and hearing Rorschach speak to him in the voice of Dan Dreiberg. What was even more bizarre was the fact that Dan was aware of an aching pulse fused hot below his stomach. He was getting hard. He was getting hard while talking to and looking at himself. _You've gotta be kidding me._

Was this how Rorschach's body reacted to the sight of him? Or was it just a manifestation of his guilt over masturbating earlier?

"Daniel?"

"Um, yeah. Pretty much the same thing. I woke up at my place but I couldn't stay awake. When I got back up I made the decision to come here and to try to find you or Jon. You both weren't here, so I thought I'd try to find Moloch."

"Agreed. Moloch did this to us. We need to find him, make him undo it."

"Jesus, Rorschach, what _did_ he do to us?"

"Hrm. Not sure. Real magic still doubtful. Possible mind control device or stolen CIA technology." Rorschach's "hrm" sounded false in a Nite Owl voice. "I discovered his true location after a social call to one of his top guards. Vote we go there, right was has been wronged."

So Rorschach had been busy while Dan slept.

He couldn't even articulate how soothing it was in this insane mess to find his partner alive and well. At least he wasn't going crazy. Now if only he could get rid of his "problem" below the belt. Dan attempted to surreptitiously pull the trench coat tighter.

Maybe this was why Rorschach wore so many clothes.

_Think of something not sexy. Jon's blue cock, the Comedian in a dress, Archie's air conditioning system...._

Archie. "Rorschach, please tell me you still have Archie's remote in my belt?"

Rorschach removed the belt and handed it to Dan. There it was, right in place. The remote that would bring his beloved creation back into his grasp, give him back a tiny illusion of comfort in all the madness.

"Thank God. Let's get the ship, and go to the address you got for Moloch. We'll figure this out. We have to."

"We will figure it out, Daniel. Answers soon. Nothing is insoluble. Nothing is hopeless. Now while there's life."

Then, in a gesture more characteristic of Nite Owl, Rorschach laid a hand on his shoulder. The warm weight flared through him, leaving need and heaviness latent throughout his body. Dan was hard again. _Hell and damnation._

The walk to Archie was going to be uncomfortable.

 


	4. Echo (4/4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for a prompt on the kinkmeme that I can't find anymore. Through a bizarre encounter, Nite Owl and Rorschach switch bodies. While struggling to right the situation, Dan learns a few things about his partner.

**Title:** Echo (4/4)  
 **Author:** lilac28  
 **Pairing:** Rorschach/Nite Owl  
 **Rating:** R  
 **Disclaimer:** I wish I could write something as amazing as Watchmen. Sadly I did not.  
 **Notes** : Slight AU, where everyone thought Crimebusters was a swell idea. Pre-Roche Rorschach so sure he's quiet and grim, but he still has all the buttons on his over-coat.  
 **Summary:** Written for a prompt on the kinkmeme that I can't find anymore. Through a bizarre encounter, Nite Owl and Rorschach switch bodies. While struggling to right the situation, Dan learns a few things about his partner.

Dan flew Archie to the apartment of one Edgar Jacobi; the man Rorschach claimed was the mild-mannered alter ego of Moloch.

During the trip, Dan learned of the advantages of being fully encased in latex and layers. He could remain neutral, only the strongest emotions betrayed by body language. He could be sneaky, surreptitiously eyeing his partner from behind the mask.

Rorschach, however, was clearly uncomfortable. Naked without the mask, he seemed to be struggling to remain still in the owl suit, hands wringing and relaxing in quick succession. Every so often he would steal a glance over at Dan, only to cast his eyes downward in the next moment, as if remembering that Dan could see much more of his face now. Even with the goggles, half a mask was still too revealing for Rorschach.

It went without saying that despite any relief that either of them felt at finding each other, conversation in this cramped, naked moment was not to be attempted.

After what felt like a grinding eternity they reached the building in question. Dan set Archie down on the roof as easily as he could. Alerting anyone to their presence would ruin the element of surprise, the best advantage one could have when dealing with a slippery character like Moloch.

Larger body and all, Rorschach still managed to float down the fire escape before kicking in a window on one of the top floors. Dan followed with a cringe. _So much for the element of surprise._

Not that it mattered. The apartment of Edgar Jacobi was dark and empty.

"Are you sure this is it?"

The living room was non-descript at best. Dan had always imagined Moloch's true living quarters to contain a lot more leather furniture. Unlike the underground vice-den, it didn't even smell like cigars or incense.

"This is it."

A cursory check of the few rooms revealed little beyond the basic necessities. Dan struggled to remain sharp, to not let his now-hidden eyes wander to the obvious junction of spandex and owl armor. _Wow, those lines really do draw your eye right in, don't they? Didn't really seem so indecent when I was designing it..._

"Nite Owl?"

"Yeah?"

"I need you to do something for me."

"What?"

"Get in the refrigerator."

A full five silent seconds ticked by before Dan responded. "You're kidding."

"No. Get in the refrigerator."

"Why?"

"Element of surprise. Always works. Also, I think you're sweating. Looks unpleasant. Should cool down."

"That's ridiculous, Rorschach. I wouldn't even fit in there, and besides-"

The rattle of keys in a lock and the turning of a doorknob sent the two vigilantes scattering for cover. They both ducked out of sight as Moloch, sans turban, and three suited men walked through the door. Bodyguards, if one was to guess from their wrestler-like statures.

Bodyguards who were no match for two well-trained, urgent vigilantes. The need for answers lent them a desperate power, and the three men were overpowered and knocked unconscious before they could react. A purple glove tightening on his collar stopped Moloch’s attempt at flight.

Dan threw him to the floor and fell back on the classic Rorschach maneuver of pinning the criminal's hand behind his back at a painful angle.

Moloch whimpered. "Oh God, please. Please, this must be a mistake! You have the wrong person...."

"No," Rorschach stooped to growl at their captive, leaning over Dan's shoulder in the process. _Too close._ "Edgar William Jacobi, also known as Edgar William Vaughn, also known as William Edgar Bright, also known as Moloch."

"I...I don't know what you're talking about. I'm a businessman...AAAA!"

A slender pinky finger snapped in Dan's hand before he even thought twice about it. They didn't have time for this. Didn't have time for lies or games or compromises. Anything, at this point, to get answers. Authority didn't scare Moloch, but pain scared everybody. It was simply a matter of how much.

"A businessman who wears eyeliner? You're lying," Dan spat, "Do it again and I'll break your arm. I'm not joking."

"Okay! Okay, just, don't...you guys are gonna take me in? I demand legal counsel!"

Rorschach grabbed one of his pointy ears. "Listen, last night you did something to us. Switched us."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"The crystal," Dan said. "Something in Latin and a glowing crystal. We woke up in each other's bodies. What did you do to us and how the hell do we go back?"

"You mean, you mean it actually worked!?" Moloch's face grew intent, fascination taking the edge off his pain. "You two disappeared and...I wasn't sure. You switched bodies? It was real?" He dissolved into hysterical giggles. "It really worked?"

Fury tightened Dan's throat. "Yes. Whatever the fuck you did really worked. We need you to undo it. Now."

Moloch only laughed harder. "I can’t! It's..." he was gasping for air, "it's....gone!"

Dan grabbed another finger. "The crystal? Where is it?"

The pressure on his aching hand brought a sliver of fear back to the magician's face. "Look...look, I don't know. It was on loan. The buyer who paid me to steal it came to collect it last night at 2 AM. It had some old history to it, old folklore. I've been hearing rumors that Manhattan's been asked to come find me. I figured since you can't shoot or bribe the guy, maybe I'd start looking at different....avenues of fighting him."

"Who is this buyer? How do we find him?"

"It was one of the Carmine brothers. Their plane left this morning, probably halfway around the world by now. You might want to get used to that outfit, Owl Man, because finding them is not going to be easy. After all they must be baaad men, if even I didn't try to con them."

"How do we know you're not conning us right now?"

Moloch twisted his head, catching Dan's faceless mask with a gaze that oozed pure confidence. "Search this place. Search everything I own, every building in town. You won't find it."

Rorschach was still impossibly close. "Funny story. Sounds unbelievable. Probably true."

"Goddammit."

"Tie him up. We're going to tear this place apart."

And tear it apart they did. Every cushion overturned, every nook and cranny examined. Useless. Rorschach grew quieter as Dan grew more and more frustrated. Moloch remained bound in a corner, his shining eyes one of the few parts of him not covered in rope. If he was enjoying the vehement search and destruction of his apartment he wisely kept it to himself.

"Fuck!" Dan finally snapped, hurling a cheap crystal ball into the TV. His anguish was not alleviated by the resultant display of sparks and shattering electronics. It wasn't there. The crystal wasn't there. Not like they'd even know what to do with it if they found it.

"Let's go. Formulate a new plan." Rorschach could only murmur, uncharacteristically dejected.

"Yeah. Right. You," he pointed a finger at Moloch, "are going to sit there tied up until the police arrive. It's over, Moloch."

The magician cackled. "Well it's not over for you, Rorschach. Or should I say Nite Owl? Enjoy your new life a foot shorter!"

Dan's sharp kick ensured Moloch would lay quiet and still until his arrest.

Rorschach led the way back to Archie, making a beeline for the pilot's seat.

"Uh...hey, buddy?"

Rorschach promptly got back up. "Sorry. Sorry, Daniel, just felt like.....that was my seat."

"Yeah." Dan was too shaken at the thought of a permanent body swap to really respond. "Sure."

He started piloting the ship back to the secret entrance to his basement, not knowing what else to do.

 

 

Once they returned, the switched superheroes spent thirty-five minutes arguing vehemently in Dan's living room. Rorschach advocated an immediate visit to high-ranking members of the Carmine family; intent on finding out anything he could on the mysterious crystal that had thrown their lives into disarray. Dan, for his part, urged caution.

"You just want to burst in there? Into a well-armed mob mansion? With no surveillance or intelligence? That's a bad fucking idea, Rorschach."

"Have a better one?" Rorschach was practically twitching at this point, inaction driving him to the point of panic. It was written all over his face. All over Dan's face, really. Now twisted and alien with Rorschach's emotions.

"Look, we can't just charge in there." Dan peeled up the mask to his nose, feeling constricted again. "C'mon, man, we're outnumbered, outgunned, and have no information. We've been busting high level criminals a long time, maybe you've forgotten how we do things."

He hadn't meant it to sound so condescending. Yet comfortingly true to Rorschach form, his partner snapped at the insult and moved to seethe an inch from Dan's face.

"Listen, I've had it! Who the hell do you think you are? You want to stop filth but use inefficient methods. Nobody complains because they think you're too Goddamned soft. You know how hard it is, being your friend?"

He towered over Dan, fixing him with an accusatory finger and vicious stare, the words spilling out as though they had been trapped for years.

Dan could only gape, an expression that was no doubt hidden by the mask. Rorschach having a minor meltdown over a difference of strategy was nothing new, although Rorschach swearing _and_ admitting they were friends all in the same sentence was something he had never heard before.

He didn't even have time to formulate a response before Rorschach, in an even more shocking display of behavior, was stumbling to take it back.

"I....look, Daniel, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said all that. Always...always fair in your dealings. I am sorry...that it is sometimes difficult."

Rorschach extended a hand, a hand that trembled slightly as it stretched out. The heat of the previous moment receded, leaving behind a tall, awkward man who was clearly uncomfortable in his own body. The subtle shift of his shoulders, the hard line of soft lips, the wavering of his hand. To Dan, he may as well have been naked. Emotions and body language on display in a way neither of them were used to.

He could almost feel the shiver of uncertainty emanate from his partner. Getting angry, he decided, was pointless. It was almost touching, in a dysfunctional Rorschach kind of way.

Dan reached for the proffered hand. "Rorschach, you're a good friend. I know that. Forget it, it's okay, man. It's okay."

Rorschach's now-larger hand encircled his smaller one, curling them right back into almost the same position they were in a few weeks ago when they had shared a weighted, deafening silence. Dan's heart was back to slamming in his ears, a heavy _something_ in the air between them. Only this time he also had an embarrassing erectile problem to contend with that was bordering on priapism. _Oh God, not again!_

Rorschach just stared, unable to let go. His lower jaw worked as though he was crunching on imaginary sugar cubes, as though he was attempting to choose his next words.

"Uhhh...." Dan began to sweat underneath the mask. _Just fucking spit it out already, Rorschach._ He had to get closer, or further away. Or just do anything to break the condemning silence. "Well, anyway, there's.....there's no sense waiting up here any longer. We should, um, figure out our next move."

He extricated his hand, which Rorschach seemed almost loathe to let go, hoping some physical distance between them would cool the prickling heat now radiating through his body. His very fiber was strung taut, shoulders tensed, muscles wound too tight from the inelegant situation. One made so much worse by the sudden lack of room in his pants and Rorschach's muteness.

Down to this, then, the clumsy face-off. On the edge of some sort of release, emotions too hot to articulate. And for the first time in his life, Dan had absolutely no idea what the right thing to do was. Sure, his path had seemed cloudy at times in the past, but he'd always had a guiding intuition for what was right. Logic dictated they should come up with a plan and stop staring like Nelson at a college swim team practice. Yet his mouth was moving under the mask to say something, anything. Something that mattered. Something to simultaneously acknowledge and bury the crushing ache in his chest, the furtive yearning that his enigmatic, strange little fascinating partner always seemed to inspire.

"Heh....well, uh.." Dan's vocal fumbling sounded all wrong in Rorschach's voice. In a desperate attempt to cover what he felt was a blatantly exposed bulge in his pinstriped pants; he jammed his hand in the trench coat pocket. His knuckles rapped something hard. _The journal._

He seized the opportunity for a distraction. "Oh, and, I have this. I could keep it in my pocket, but maybe you want to hold on to it."

Rorschach took the journal as though he were being handed a bomb, gazing at it with eyes that were surely critical behind Nite Owl's goggles. He mumbled something. A knot of dread formed in Dan's stomach when he thought he heard the word "naked".

 _He knows. He has to._ "What...what was that?"

"Said never thought I'd be exposed like this. Naked in your clothes."

"Oh, uh, me too, buddy."

"Daniel, you," he hesitated, gesturing half-heartedly towards Dan, "you didn't look. Did you?"

 _He knows!_ Ice terror shot through him. Rorschach was a detective, after all. Of course he knew that Dan had undressed him, had washed his body. Of course he had deduced that Dan had jerked off in it. Or he was certainly going to the second they were switched back (if they were ever switched back) and Rorschach found himself more relaxed than he had been in a decade.

Even the most honest man, when faced with an issue of extreme self-preservation, should know when to deny and obfuscate.

"Oh Jesus, Rorschach, what did you expect me to do? I _had_ to shower!" _Please don't ask again._

Rorschach just stared at him, jaw obviously clenched. He responded in a low pitch. "I was talking about the journal."

"Oh! No! Heh, no, man. I didn't look." Another lie. Dan felt terrible. He was racking up a lot of moral failings for being in the body of someone who claimed to value morality so highly.

"Daniel, there's something I need to tell you."

Rorschach's confession was cut short when a blue crackle rocked the room, and Dr. Manhattan materialized before them in a state of typical steady detachment. He was lacking what the Comedian referred to as his "little black poor excuse for undies", but so great was Dan's relief that he hardly noticed.

"Jon! Oh thank God."

"Good evening, Nite Owl. Rorschach. Laurie informed me that you needed to speak with me urgently?"

"Yes! We had a kind of...accident. It's, um, a long story."

"I can see that. How is it that you came to be in each other's bodies?"

Both Dan and Rorschach began babbling at once.

"Don't know how it happened."

"It was Moloch. He-"

"Some sort of C.I.A. plot with Russians.."

"He had this magic crystal."

Dr. Manhattan held up a hand, as if his will could cut through the barrage of frantic words. "I don't believe there is such a thing as magic, Nite Owl. Although I'm not surprised that such a switch could exist in what you perceive as matter and dimension. The two of you do, after all, seem to resonate at the same frequency."

Dan struggled to keep his voice even. "Just, please, switch us back. If you can."

"Of course. Try and relax. Your minds will no doubt find this disorienting."

Dan Dreiberg knew, as did anyone who had ever lost someone they loved, how one's life could change in the blink of an eye. Far more infrequent to speak of were the instances where one's life returned to normal in that same split second. Disorienting was an understatement. One moment he was staring up at his own face, there was a crackling arc of electricity, and right before reality snapped back into place, he heard a fleeting voice in his head. One that echoed with a tremulous want. One that was decidedly not his. _Daniel....._

And then he was back in his own body, looking down at Rorschach. The riddle complete once more.

Dan's knees almost buckled with relief. At once he noticed various aches and a dull throbbing above his left eye. He didn't want to contemplate how many beatings his poor body has taken under the command of Rorschach's psyche. "My head hurts. What the hell did you do to me?"

"Longer legs, shorter distance to doorways and hanging lamps." Rorschach reached out a hand to steady him. "Why do I smell like women's perfume?"

Dan leaned down to rest their foreheads together. Room spinning, he clung to his partner like a life preserver. A giddy bark of laughter forced its way past his lips. "Perfume? That's just detergent, Rorschach, I _washed_ your clothes. They smelled worse than the sewer."

"Hrm. Strong accusations from a man who wears owl printed boxers under his armor."

So Rorschach had taken off the costume.

"I was," Dan swallowed, "I was so worried about you."

"Unnecessary, of course." Rorschach's words were calm, but his breath shaky. Their foreheads were still melded together.

Dr. Manhattan stood forgotten a few feet away. His abrupt departure, although performed with all the subtlety of an energy burst, went unnoticed.

"Daniel." It was a confused entreaty. Or a warning tinged with vertigo. Dan couldn't tell, didn't want to. He let everything exist in a state of bewildered, heart slamming satisfaction.

And it seemed the most natural thing in the world to slide his hands up Rorschach's tensed shoulders and dip them below the now pristine scarf. It seemed to make perfect sense, the only course of action really, to hook his thumbs under the edge of the mask and gently push it up the middle of a freckled nose. To reveal once more the nondescript mouth and chin that, he had no doubt, would haunt him for months to come. Maybe even years.

To place his lips to Rorschach's, Dan had to lean down further than he had with his last girlfriend. The kiss, however, was far sweeter. One of those exquisite, tentative kisses where lips were fully pressed together yet barely moved. Where the mere act of softly breathing into each other's mouths sizzled with a strange, aching comfort. Dan had only the smallest sliver of control over his own trembling, his once again familiar body alight with a cold fire. He was anchored to reality through Rorschach's mouth and didn’t want to relinquish it. Oh, it was sweet. Being alive and whole was so damn sweet.

When Dan began to nibble on his partner's dry lower lip the peace of the moment vanished. In its place unfurled months of repressed desire, and over twenty-four hours of psychological upheaval. Rorschach huffed something unintelligible and ground himself into Dan, clumsily deepening the kiss. He was hard; Dan could feel it against his thigh. Oh God, Rorschach was hard and they were kissing and he couldn't think straight and it was so, so very good.

Within seconds they were on the couch, Rorschach straddling him as they kissed with the fervor of those terrified that they were dreaming. Dan paused to tear off his cowl and goggles, and although his skin needed to breathe he kept the persona of Nite Owl close at hand. Daniel Dreiberg was too fragile at the moment to make a firm, sane decision about anything.

"Rorschach, _God..._ "

"Daniel, I don't....I don't know-"

"It's okay. You can have this," Dan murmured into the other man's neck as he made short work of the scarf. "You can have this." _Oh please._

Purple-gloved hands clawed at his armor in a useless frenzy. Rorschach grew more aggressive with each bruising kiss; his body remembering its pragmatic inclination towards violence and efficiency. For all his personality defects, he was nothing if not passionate. And what was passion, if not anger and love combined?

Dan fumbled with both their clothes, succeeding in stripping them with no small amount of abuse to the fabric. A seam on one of the garments ripped, the noise drowned out by masculine grunts and panting. He left the swirling black and white mask on his partner, allowed him the one article that would save him from being truly exposed.

Uneven teeth assailed each slice of revealed skin. Rorschach bit. Hard. Every desperate snap sent a charged thrill right to the base of Dan's spine, driving him further back into his body, and further out of his mind.

He struggled out of the remainder of his costume and flipped them over. A quick glance down at his own body assured him that Rorschach hadn't done too much damage while inhabiting him. In fact everything seemed to be working far, far better than normal. Rorschach was flushed and shirtless underneath him, clad only in his pinstripe pants. He covered his masked face with his hands as the pants were removed, his aroused state on plain display.

Fingertips glided along freckled skin and taught muscles, searching for confidence in their identities. Dan stretched out over his smaller partner while propping himself up on his elbows. His body was making sense again. It could hold, lift, reach as it should. It was coming back under his control, while Rorschach's seemed to be spinning away. He thrust his hips up towards Dan, silently pleading for the friction and touch that he could never bring himself to ask for. Dan surged against him, finding as much delicious warm skin contact as he possibly could. Rorschach burned, one hand splayed over his masked face while the other clutched at Dan's shoulder.

Dan shifted his weight and took both of them in his large hand. His heart pounded as Rorschach - intimidating, conflicted, straight-laced Rorschach - emitted a legitimate wail when he squeezed their dicks together.

"Oh, yes! No,I- Oh _yes....._ "

And despite all the power and costumes and late night violence and righteous ideals, Dan found himself filled with tenderness for his mysterious friend. He brought his lips to a pointy, covered ear and whispered low.

"So long. I've wanted to touch you this way for so long."

Rorschach muttered something that sounded like "don't stop."

Dan understood. If he stopped the spell would be broken. If given the time to come back to their senses, one or both of them would see what a bad idea this was. If Rorschach stopped operating on dizzy autopilot he was going to throw one of his patented ringing punches. Dan wouldn't, couldn't stop. Instead he leaned over the side of the couch and grabbed his discarded tool belt, continuing to operate on raw emotion and instinct.

When Hollis had insisted on the endless applications of having a simple tube of lotion in your crime-fighting arsenal, sex was never even mentioned. Dan had taken his advice, hoping maybe someday the tube would have more uses than just fixing squeaky parts and chapped hands. He didn't get laid a lot, but he was the fucking Nite Owl and it did pay to be prepared. This, however, was not what he'd had in mind.

 _And I have no fucking idea what I'm doing._ Although there had been one adventurous girlfriend, he'd never touched another man like this. They obviously didn't have to fuck. There was a myriad of other ways to purge this desire. Yet Dan's united mind and body needed to be closer. To posses the form he had spent the past day trying to be rid of, now far more enticing once infused with Rorschach's essence. _Just make this good for him. He wants it but he's such a mess. Make it good for him..._

He poured an overly large dollop of lotion onto his fingers, ignoring how some of it dripped onto the couch. He tipped Rorschach's hips, drawing his scrawny knees upward and paused at the rim of his ass, waiting for silent permission.

"Daniel-"

"Easy. It's okay." He buried his face in Rorschach's sparse, rust colored chest hair as he worked in his middle finger, hand moving with the utmost care. _It's not that different, right? You've done this once with a woman._ He curled his finger and gently probed. It didn't take long before his partner let loose with a sharp, desperate groan.

These were the methodical, dexterous hands of Dan Dreiberg after all. The man who built an entirely original aircraft all on his own. He may not have been sure, but he wasn't stopping.

He moved his hand just right once more, eliciting another shaky moan. They built to a slow rhythm; Dan arching his finger while Rorschach trashed his head and made noises completely foreign to both of them. _Oh God, this isn't gonna last long if he keeps moaning like that._

Finally impatient, Dan extricated his finger and poured more lotion into his palm, warming it up between his hands. He smeared it all over himself, relishing the glide on his heated body. Abject want and need made him forget about the unpredictable nature of Rorschach's personality as he moved into position, one of Rorschach's thin legs hooked around his side while the other rested against his forearm.

They pressed against each other, all slippery knees and sweat-soaked hands. Dan rocked into him, slow to enter in the hopes of causing minimal pain to both body and mind. After only some minor struggling he was halfway buried in his partner's tight ass, almost panting from the exertion it took to set such a slow pace.

Rorschach's mouth was hanging open beneath the mask, restless inkblots fixing him in an impenetrable stare. So often in the past had he seemed to Dan resolute and controlled in all matters from pleasure to pain. Now that the line had blurred, that the two had come together and bonded, the man who saw in black and white was overwhelmed. A sharp contrast with Dan's past fantasies, where Rorschach was always the one taking _him._

The irony was lost as he started again with shallow thrusts. _Fuck_ , Rorschach was so tight and warm and a sense of elation was already building. Every connection in his brain was firing. A bead of sweat tasted like leather and violence as the first luscious hints of ecstasy appeared at the boundary of his senses.

It was too soon, far too soon, but the moment was so intense. Rorschach gritting his teeth and making those sounds, Rorschach watching him through the mask, Rorschach working his way towards completion, and _Rorschach...._

Dan would remember it for the rest of his days as the most powerful orgasm of his life. Near indescribable exhilaration. For almost ten seconds. Unable to hold himself up anymore, he collapsed shaking on top of his partner.

"Mpf-" Rorschach maneuvered out from under him, roughly shoving Dan onto his side and tucking himself into the larger man's shoulder. He was flushed and panting as Dan took him in through bliss-dazed eyes.

A true friend, Dan would never make him ask for it. Instead he meandered long fingers over Rorschach's straining erection and simply looked for guidance.

"Hey," he spoke with more gentleness than the moment called for, "show me how you like it."

Rorschach's hand clamped over his with unrelenting pressure, far more adamantly than he would have ever gripped himself. Clear fluid leaked onto Dan's fingers, he could see muscles bowstring taut. So close. Sweaty and shamefully wanting as Dan jacked him off on the couch. So fucking close. Just how did you get someone who saw the mere act of surrender as a sin to let go?

"Relax." _Make this good for him_. He shifted his grip. "Just trust me."

With that, Rorschach let out a fierce moan that ended in a barely whispered "Daniel."

Dan's hand was wet and sticky, heart slamming in his chest as he watched the exquisite climax. He felt simultaneous guilt and victory. So Rorschach could be a sexual being after all. Had he really thought himself immune? The broken man who believed that humans were capable of anything?

The shaking eventually stopped and they lay tangled on the couch. Not speaking. Not bothering to clean up. Dan didn't reassure him. Rorschach didn't let go of his hand.

Dan pulled him closer, recognizing the peaceful moment for what it was. Extremely fleeting. An injured bird that you could hold in your hand and marvel at its uniqueness even if you knew it was going to die.

He didn't know how long they lay there. He only knew it wasn't long enough.

Then reality began to seep through, and the spell really was broken. Rorschach reached for his clothes, affording Dan only one furtive glance. _Goddammit._

The mind behind Nite Owl could accommodate an attraction to another man, unfamiliar as it was. The mind behind Rorschach could not.

"You don't....you don't have to go, you know. If you're, um, tired. You're welcome to stay on the couch, or on the cot in the basement." He knew his bed was out of the question.

"Have to go. Check on something at my apartment."

A lame excuse. It appeared that Rorschach was a quick study at this sexual being thing. He was also dressing in record time.

"Rorschach." _If you push him, he'll be gone for weeks._ Dan couldn't take that thought. Couldn't spend a month worrying about him.

He was hesitating in the doorway now, body language tense from across the room.

"Rorschach, listen, uh..." _You're my best friend._ "Friday night? Patrol?"

A single nod. "Eight PM. Be dressed and ready."

_Wow. Out through the front door. He must really be desperate to get out of here._

From his position naked on the couch Dan could hear the door slam shut. Then a strange jingling. It took him a few seconds to recognize the sound. A key. Turning in a lock.

Sweaty, sated, and still trying to process what had just happened, he could nevertheless feel the edges of his mouth tug into a small smile. Rorschach was using the hidden spare to lock him back in. Possibly the closest thing Dan would ever receive to a caring declaration.

And then his masked partner was truly gone; the sounds in front of the apartment growing further and further away, the echo of his footsteps fading long before the memory of his body.

 

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A/N The relief I feel from finally getting this finished is immense. If you've read this far, thanks!!!!


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